Overseas
by Pidraya
Summary: An op takes Gibbs and Jenny Shepard to the United Kingdom in March of 1999.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes: **

London is divided into _Inner London_ and _Greater London – _which are further subdivided into boroughs. _Golders Green_ is part of the borough of Barnet, in the northern part of London.

The _DHO_ (Defence HUMINT Organization) is a subsection of _DI_ (Defence Intelligence) – which in turn falls under the British _MOD_ (Ministry of Defence). Under the command of a Colonel, it manages strategic aspects of human intelligence and provides specialist support to military operations. Staff is drawn from the three branches of the military (Royal Navy, British Army, and Royal Air Force) and headquarters are located in Feltham, Middlesex.

London is one hour behind Paris.

Between January and March of 1999, a series of meetings were held in France under the auspices of _NATO_ (North Atlantic Treaty Organization); their focus the Kosovo Crisis.

The _Rambouillet Accord_ was supposedly meant to end the crisis.

_Slobodan Milošević_ was the President of the _Federal Republic of Yugoslavia_ (FRY) at the time.

The _Caspian Sea_ is the largest body of water in the world. It is landlocked by Russia, Iran, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, and Turkmenistan.

* * *

_**An apartment on Leeside Crescent**_

_**Golders Green, London**_

_**March 2nd, 1999**_

_**2200**_

"Refill?"

"Nah."

"Are you feeling okay?" She looked at him curiously, a bottle of bourbon suspended in mid-air, and rolled her eyes as she caught the tail end of a smirk. "It's only been an hour."

"And a half."

"You're not seriously keeping time," she said as she refilled her own glass.

"When you prance around in that get-up, _always_."

Jen's lips fluttered in amusement.

"I don't _prance_, Jethro."

He raised his eyebrows at her but didn't answer.

Preferring to savour the view of her pulling an errant strap back into place; his eyes dipping to the evidence that the fabric of her slip had stimulated her.

He wasn't averse to admitting that he liked this particular piece of lingerie.

In some obscure way it reminded him of a barbed wire fence.

Protecting the property without obstructing the view.

As he leaned against the wall he could see a bit of cleavage, but it was the tantalizing outline of an areola and the imprint of her nipples against the irridescent green silk, that held his gaze.

"Are you just going to stare holes into my nightie?" she asked as she raised the glass to her lips – amusement written all over her face.

"View's pretty damn good from where I'm standing."

"Is that so?" she asked as she placed her glass down against the bottle with a determined little clink and walked towards him.

"Uh-huh."

He smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck; enjoying the familiarity of the hairs at the base of his skull rising as her breath tickled him. His skin prickled with goose flesh as she ran an open-mouthed kiss along the column of his neck, and he repaid her in kind by sliding his hands down her back until they rested against her bottom.

He bent his knees slightly; drawing her into him until he was rubbing against the heat he knew so well.

Jen made a guttural sound and took a step back.

"You're incorrigible."

"That a word?" he asked as he palmed the breast that wasn't paying attention.

Smiling as her breath hitched.

Jen threw her head back and laughed. "Get a dictionary, Jethro!" she said as she reached between them and made _his_ breath hitch instead. "Now about that refill ..."

"Would love to oblige you, ma'am," he said as he tapped her on the nose, "but I can't go meet Petrov looking like I need a nap."

"Oh _please._ I don't wear you out _that_ much," she said as she snuck a hand under his t-shirt.

"Nice try, Jen," he returned as he kissed her on the forehead and walked over to the dining room table.

"So .." she said as she followed him and shuffled the paperwork around, "David Williams and Laura Evans. He's Royal Army and she's .. overseeing things for the MOD?" When Gibbs nodded, she suppressed a yawn and added, "any word on when we're meeting them?"

"Not yet," he replied as he looked at his watch and got to his feet.

"What time are you meeting Petrov? Ten thirty?"

"Yeah," he said as he holstered his weapon. "Need to get going. Make sure you lock the door behind me. And get some sleep," he added as he pressed a kiss to her lips, "because I'll be taking you up on that refill when I get back."

* * *

_**An apartment on West Heath Drive**_

_**Golders Green, London**_

_**2230**_

Gibbs lifted the door mat and let himself into the studio apartment on the ground floor with the key he found there; his gun at the ready in case there were any surprises.

There were none.

Petrov was waiting for him, as agreed.

"Good to see you again, Jethro," the Russian said as he extended an arm and then swept Gibbs into a strong embrace.

"Likewise," Gibbs replied as he turned a chair around and straddled it. "What've we got?"

"A mess in the Balkans," Petrov said wearily.

"Think _Milošević _will sign?"

Petrov snorted as he put a steaming cup of coffee in front of Gibbs and pulled a map out from the chaotic pile of papers on the table.

"The Albanians might cave, but Milošević? There's not a hope in hell. And anyway, this is all about the oil. Those billions of barrels of oil and all the natural gas in the Caspian Sea. Good news for a world thirsty for petroleum, but getting it to market is going to be tough. They can say all they want there's no oil in Kosovo, but the word is that the US has backed a proposal for a pipeline which would pass through the Macedonian capital of Skopje," he said as he stabbed the spot with the end of a marker. "And that's not exactly far from Kosovo's southern border."

"Think the ring are players in any way?"

"Hard to tell," Petrov said as he ran a hand across his face, " because we _still_ don't know for sure whether they are state-sponsored or independent. Certainly _we_ have a lot of those two commodities ourselves, so if oil and gas _didn't_ flow out from the Caspian area it would be a good thing for Russia."

"The ring would be perfect to throw a monkey wrench into the works," Gibbs said before taking a long swallow of his coffee. "Plausible deniability, if nothing else."

"There's so much going on that it's hard to keep up sometimes. Things slip through the cracks, deals go down under the radar. As I said, the Balkans are a mess."

"When's the last time you slept, Yuri?"

The Russian's snort was a lot more pronounced this time.

"Some time in 1998," he said sardonically. "I'd feel a lot better if we had some idea why they're going to be here this weekend."

"You got good people working on it?"

"The best. Round the clock. You'll know the moment I do."

"Couldn't ask for more. In the meantime .. what can you tell me about David Williams?"

Petrov leaned back in his seat and looked Gibbs straight in the eye.

There was a hint of amusement in his voice when he spoke again.

"As anti-American as they come. I'd say you have your work cut out for you."

"Great," Gibbs said as he downed the rest of his coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

_**DHO (Defence Humint Organization) Headquarters**_

_**Feltham, Middlesex**_

_**March 3rd, 1999**_

_**0900**_

"Lights please, John," Laura Evans said.

"Yes ma'am," the man replied as he flipped the switch and took a seat at the conference table.

"Major Williams .."

Gibbs studied the man who reached for the slide projector's remote control.

Even in the semi-darkness it was apparent that Williams was highly strung and not at all at pleased with their presence.

He thought back briefly to his recent conversation with Petrov, and then tuned in to what the Englishman was saying.

"This is the Preševo Valley," Williams said as he trained a laser pen onto an area in Southern Serbia. "Home to the highest percentage of ethnic Albanians, excluding Kosovo. In 1992, the municipalities of Preševo, Medveđa and Bujanovac joined Kosovo through a referendum. Our sources indicate that a separatist militant group is, as we speak, being established in the region – with the goal of seceding from the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia in the event that Kosovo gains its independence. There is reason to believe that the ring is supplying weapons to this would-be liberation army."

"Rather far away from home for such a thing, aren't they?" Gibbs asked.

"This is just the deal, and it _is_ being brokered _here_," Williams said as he slapped his hand against the white wall serving as a screen. "In the UK."

"Your sources credible?"

Williams took a deep breath as he tried to rein in his irritation, and Laura Evans stepped in seamlessly.

"Yes, Agent Gibbs."

"Got any names?"

"One. _Dzeladin Bardha_," she said as she took the remote control from Williams and proceeded to the next slide. "The officer in charge of visas at the Albanian Consulate in London."

"What makes you so sure he's involved?"

Williams picked up a folder and threw it back onto the table in anger.

"Why don't you just stick to what you know best and leave the rest to the experts?" he spat.

"Major Williams .." Laura's voice was soft but firm – but didn't stop the man to her right.

"You probably trained these people in the first place and now they're on the verge of going rogue. Using minors. Children of twelve and thirteen to be machines of war and -"

"Major Williams, _stand down_. Or leave the room." There was nothing soft about her voice now, and Williams backed off immediately. "We have no time to waste over senseless bickering. Agent Gibbs, Agent Shepard," she added as she turned to them. "We would like to step up surveillance on Bardha, effective immediately. Can we count on you to help out with that?"

Gibbs looked over Jenny's shoulder at the roster she'd been handed.

"We'll take the graveyard shift," he said.

"You _enjoyed_ pushing his buttons," Jen said a few moments later.

Punching Gibbs' arm gently as they walked towards the car.

Gibbs gave her a long look and then bobbed his head.

"Military thing," he said.

Jenny was about to slip into the passenger seat when she swore under her breath.

"What?" Gibbs asked.

"Forgot my sweater inside. Be right back."

She didn't realize Evans and Williams were still inside the conference room as she opened the door.

"Look I'm sorry, love. I just .. sorry okay. It won't -"

He snatched his hand away from Laura's face as Jenny walked inside.

For a moment everyone froze, and then Jenny swooped down on her sweater, picked it up, waved a hand at them, and exited as fast as she could.

Barely a second later, Laura Evans came barrelling down the hall after her.

"Agent Shepard ..."

"Yes?" Jenny put on her brightest smile and turned around.

"What you just .. saw. It's .. I can explain."

Jenny smiled and shook her head.

"Didn't see a thing," she said with a knowing smile – which grew bigger when she saw the look of relief on Laura Evan's face.

As she walked outside, she debated telling Jethro – and then decided against it.

She was sure these people's jobs were stressful enough.

Good for them if they'd found happiness together and weren't afraid to embrace it.

* * *

**_Gibbs' and Jenny's apartment in Golders Green, London  
_**

**_March 4th, 1999_**

**_0050_**

As she stared out into the night, a figure hurried down the street.

Snowflakes - unusual for this time of year - clung to his trench coat; glistening momentarily under the harsh glare of the street lamps before fading into nothingness.

Jen smiled as she watched – wondering what the man sleeping down the hall would say if she told him snow would forever remind her of him.

Not of Gibbs though.

Of Jethro.

In her head there was a distinction.

Gibbs she associated with the pump of adrenaline. With turf wars and dogged pursuits. With merciless demanding sex. Gibbs heated her blood. Made her heart pound, her mind spin, and her body ache.

Jethro was silent.

Symmetrical and complex. Like snowfall, he obscured and softened her hard edges with his touch. Built in her pure mounds of pleasure when he covered her body with his own. And muffled the sounds she made as she fell apart for him.

A glass of bourbon appeared on the window sill, and she smiled as a pair of warm lips dropped to the nape of her neck.

"Hey ..." he whispered gently in her ear as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Can't sleep?"

She leaned back into him when he dropped his hands to her hips and grazed the silk of her nightie with his thumb.

Feeling her heart swell at the simple overture.

His right hand moved along her stomach as he suckled at the skin just below her ear; making her shiver with anticipation.

She cast one lingering look at the flurries before turning in his arms.

Snow might be holy, but so was Jethro's touch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's notes:**

_Bashkim Gazidede _was an Albanian mathematician; a controversial political figure at the helm of the Albanian Intelligence Service between 1992 and 1997. He disappeared after failure to suppress rioting (and the election of a new party) in June 1997, and went underground. In August of 1998 he was one of the officials accused of genocide, crimes against humanity, and abandonment of duty in the face of threat by the Albanian Attorney General.

* * *

_**Petrov's apartment**_

_**Golders Green, London**_

_**March 4th, 1999**_

_**1400**_

Gibbs finished filling Petrov in before pushing a photo towards him.

"Dzeladin Bardha," he said. "Whatcha got?"

"The British have been watching him for a while," Petrov said as he picked the photo off the table.

"On what grounds?"

Petrov looked up in amusement.

"Your new friends didn't tell you?"

Gibbs smiled at the good-natured jibe before saying, "not particularly keen to share information."

"Tell me something I don't know," Petrov replied with a small yawn as he poured coffee.

"So Bardha .."

"A lot of confidential information delivered to the embassies and diplomatic offices of western countries in the past few months has been .. finding its way back out."

"Where's it goin'?"

"_Special _police forces in the Balkans," Petrov said wryly as he drained his coffee cup. "With ties to Islamic fundamentalists."

"The MOD suspect Bardha .."

"He's one of several people on their naughty list," Petrov said with a nod before adding, "and I am not saying they are wrong. Bardha's wife has family ties to Bashkim Gazidede."

"_But?_"

"Bardha is highly educated. Resourceful. Low profile. Aware of how volatile things are, politically. But this is _not_ his style. He does not get his hands dirty."

"So you think it's a smokescreen."

Petrov looked into the bottom of his cup for a while, and then said, "the people we are after have operatives _everywhere_. This is the perfect set up. Lead the authorities down the garden path with something that will have them running around like .. what do you call them .."

"Headless chickens?"

"Headless chickens. And in this political climate, the best way to do that is .."

"Anything even remotely linked to terrorism."

"I'm not saying Bardha's clean," Petrov insisted. "Let us be clear on that."

"But you _are_ saying you think he's being set up."

"May be. But _is it_ the ring?"

"What's the alternative?"

Petrov was silent for a long time before speaking again.

"This is Williams' pet project. He has been working on this for a very long time. We _know_ the ring has a presence in the United Kingdom, we _know_ they have had dealings in the Balkans, we _know_ they have supplied weapons to militant groups. Williams is determined to make the pieces of the jigsaw fit, Jethro. One way or another."

"And Bardha fits the bill."

Petrov sighed as he refilled his cup.

"He deals in Visas – which are a huge commodity these days. He has plenty of enemies who would jump at the chance to bring him down."

Gibbs nodded and patted him on the shoulder before heading towards the door.

"Lay off the coffee and get some sleep, Yuri."

"Maybe in the new millenium," Petrov called after him. "_If_ I'm lucky."

* * *

_**Svetlana's apartment in Paris, France.**_

_**2230**_

Svetlana rolled over in bed and checked the time.

Anatoly hadn't called yet.

They always talked before sleeping when he was travelling, so this could only mean that he had not arrived at the safehouse yet.

She refused to consider the possibility that something had gone wrong.

Or that Sergei had set him up.

As she pulled his pillow towards herself and curled up around it, she inhaled its residual scent - and admitted to herself that she was anxious.

About him and about their relationship.

Things had been fine the moment Sergei had called with the news. You'd never have known there had been issues. But what if things went south? There was always the possibility that they would, and the toll the past few weeks had taken on their relationship was very clear to her - even if she couldn't be sure Anatoly was aware of it. Sometimes she thought he was, at others she wasn't sure. Certainly he was a lot better at compartmentalizing than she was, and -

She was saved from further dwelling by the phone going off.

"Hello, my love."

She almost burst into tears at the sound of his voice.

He had arrived. He was safe.

"Did I wake you?"

"No," she said slowly. "I was just .. lying in bed."

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

She reflected for a moment that she could lie. Pretend that there was nothing wrong, that she was just tired.

But what would that accomplish?

"I miss you," she said carefully.

Silence hung between them for a long moment – and she knew he understood exactly what she meant. That she missed _her_ Anatoly .. not the shadow of a man he'd been recently.

"We're one day closer to being together again, my love."

She couldn't remember anymore which one of them had come up with that, but tonight it made her heart hurt.

"Sveta?"

"Yes, one day closer," she echoed.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's notes:**_

_Belgravia_ is an affluent district in Central London, to the southwest of Buckingham Palace.

My thanks to _**MissJayne**_ for checking the time on _Big Ben_ (as it was still known in 1999) in the flashback in the Season 3 episode, _Silver War._

* * *

_**A car in Westminster, London**_

_**March 5th, 1999**_

_**0620**_

Jen looked surreptitiously at her partner.

"Yeeeeesss?" he drawled without looking at her.

"Nothing," she said as she picked a piece of imaginary lint off his dark suit.

"You're thinkin' about having your wicked way with me in here, aren't you?"

"While we're on the job? _Never_," she said with mock seriousness. "As soon as we're _off_ the job though, preeetty much!"

"Mmhmm .."

"How much longer anyway?" she said as she looked at her wrist watch and rolled her eyes.

"Thompson and Kettering should be here at eight."

"That was some dinner last night, by the way," Jen said as she pushed back against her seat. "Very nice for you to be able to treat a girl that way and then expense it."

Gibbs' smiled mirrored her own.

Bardha had dined at the upscale _Library_ restaurant in Belgravia – and consequently so had they.

It had been a nice intimate setting for two people at their level of involvement, and the lack of need for playing a part had been a great asset.

There had been plenty of opportunity to watch him interact with others, as there had been no shortage of people stopping by his table. But absolutely _no_ indication that he was aware he was being watched, that anyone else was doing the same, or that there was, in fact, anything _to_ watch.

They'd tagged along behind as he'd walked back to his apartment all alone - and that had been the last they'd seen of him.

Gibbs wondered briefly whether his phones were being tapped, and then turned his attention back to Jenny – who was fumbling in her handbag.

"What?"

"I forgot," she said. "There was a call from Calhoun last night while we were having dinner. I let it go to voice mail."

She entered her password, put the phone to her ear, and was barely able to contain her laughter a few moments into the message.

"What's so funny?" Gibbs asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Seems he met a girl who works at the Folies Bergère."

Gibbs' eyebrow rose a little higher.

"He's in Paris?"

"I guess. Why?"

Gibbs shrugged.

"So anyway, he met this girl who works there."

"She work on the stage?"

"No," she said with a giggle. "She's a seamstress."

"Why's that funny?"

"Because she took him to the place she works. After hours. They're based in some apartment building behind the theatre, apparently. He was giving me a blow by blow about what he saw," she said as she inched closer.

"And what was that?"

"Costumes. Lots and lots of skimpy costumes. And boas. And … _stockings," _she whispered.

Gibbs let out a small embarassed laugh and she leaned over and kissed him.

"Think about it, Jethro. Rows and rows of garter belts and silks," she teased.

"You're trying to get a rise out of me," he said as he wagged his fingers at her, still laughing.

"You think I don't know what you like? We've already established that I'm a fast learner, haven't we?" she chuckled as she leaned in to kiss him again. "You're a sucker for my sheer sevens with the line. And I have them with me, Jethro," she sang into his ear.

He pushed the hand that had found its way into his lap firmly back into hers.

"Behave!"

"Spoilsport! Hey ... did you know that _bergère_ means _shepherdess_ in French?" she asked as she ran a finger along the back of his ear. "So how's this? I'll give you your own private show when we get back to the apartment. Instead of the Folies Bergère, it'll be the _Bergère en Folie_."

Gibbs could feel himself hardening just from the thought of what was doubtless coming his way in a couple of hours.

"Plannin' on goin' rabid on me?"

Jenny batted her eyelashes at him twice and then smiled mischievously.

"Bien sûr," she said in her husky French accent.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's notes:**

The new material didn't pan out, so I'll just pick up where I left off.

_Eastern Orthodox _crosses are different from regular crosses in that they also have a small upper bar and a slanted crossbar across the bottom of the cross. These are meant to symbolize the plaque above Jesus' head and the bar upon which his feet were placed during his crucifixion. Although Svetlana was a citizen of Uzbekistan (per _Judgement Day_, season five) I have already established my theory that she was not raised Muslim.

The _Travel Inn_ mentioned in this chapter became the Premier Inn in 2007. It is located 0.2 miles away from Waterloo Station.

_The Heart Asks Pleasure First_ is probably the track most associated with the 1993 film, _The Piano - _directed by Jane Campion and starring Holly Hunter and Harvey Keitel.

The Royal Botanic Gardens in Kew are often simply referred to as _Kew Gardens_. One of the attractions is _Palm House_ - a huge sprawling wrought iron structure with over 700 panes of hand-blown glass. It houses exotic plants collected and introduced into Europe in early Victorian times.

_Southampton_ is the largest city in the county of Hampshire on the south coast of England and is around seventy-five miles south-west of London.

For the purposes of this story, the _DHO_ is run by Colonel James Masters.

* * *

_**Jenny and Jethro's apartment**_

_**Golders Green, London**_

_**Saturday, March 6th, 1999**_

_**1103**_

He watched her sleep.

Arm cast over the edge of the bed; her soft deep breathing rhythmic.

As seductive as the bare patch of skin exposed to him.

Jethro pushed the covers back gently to reveal more of it, and placed a light kiss to her shoulder.

Sometimes her skin seemed too perfect to be real.

Perhaps that was why he felt drawn to it, he thought.

And to her.

He'd come to know all of its planes, all of its nuances.

Most of its secrets.

He debated waking her, and realized he'd become addicted to the smooth silky planes which flushed and grew warm under his hands. And just as addicted to the pleasure that same softness brought him when her body slid wantonly against his.

He'd become attuned to the way she smelled, too. The scent of her clean skin, the almost-coppery element to her perspiration, and the sweetly tart fragrance that lingered on her thighs when they were intimate.

Arousal reared its head like a cobra; every breath he took bringing with it a fractional shift closer to her.

His mouth found its way to a shoulder, as his hand began a gentle campaign of touches that he knew would rouse her from sleep.

A slow sensual _glissando_ over the dimple in her knee; his fingers curving slowly up and over her thigh until he was rewarded with the first anticipatory shiver.

The purity of the silence reminded him of that airless attic in Marseille - and the moment he'd first lain claim to her skin.

To the moment it had seduced him.

He could feel his arousal start to get the better of him just as she gave a muted verbal signal that she was enjoying his touch.

Inciting his hand to rise higher.

His body to move closer still.

A nipple distended under his fingertips. Sparking an intensity so raw that his pulse quickened.

He stretched himself over her as he nuzzled her; his tongue dancing on her skin as she slowly came to life and turned in his arms.

"Morning ..."

His only response was to smile and drop his head to her chest.

It was a moment for quiet love.

Soft feverish pleasure.

Soon he would need more, and so would she, but for the moment he was content to indulge in the fantasy that her porosity extended to him too.

That it absorbed what he felt and put him as firmly under her skin as she was under his.

An isolated incident of utter peace – when you were certain you were exactly where you needed to be, and life called upon you to make the most of it.

"Mmmm ..."Jenny wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled at him before stifling a yawn. "What time is it?"

"Just after eleven."

"Any word from Williams or Evans?" she asked as she made a futile attempt to raise her head of the pillow.

"Nah. Thompson and Kettering will be on shift for a while. We've got time."

Jenny gave a wicked little chuckle and flipped him over unexpectedly.

"And tell me, Agent Gibbs," she said as she rubbed her body wantonly against his. "What would you like to do until they call?"

Jethro grinned and flipped her right back over.

"Have you for breakfast?" he asked as he moved down between her legs.

* * *

_**DHO Headquarters**_

_**Feltham, Middlesex**_

_**1400**_

"Sir .." Thompson sounded slightly excited and Williams straightened up in his seat immediately.

"What's going on?" he said as he looked up at the clock on the wall.

"He's on the move."

"Is he alone?"

"No. He and the driver left in the jag."

"Bags?"

"Two, sir. Looks like he's plannin' on stayin' somewhere overnight."

"Stay with him, Thompson. Keep me in the loop."

As he replaced the phone in its cradle, Williams gave a hoarse laugh.

He hurtled a crumpled piece of paper across the room at a waste paper basket across the room.

"_I've got you, you bastard_," he said when it fell right in. "_I've got you_."

He pushed his seat onto its back legs and smiled as he thought about Laura.

This was going to make her career.

* * *

_**Travel Inn **_

_**Belvedere Road, London**_

As he was about to place the boat schedules and a week's worth of weather reports back into the large envelope, Anatoly realized that there was something weighty at the bottom of it.

Something he had missed earlier.

He tipped a small leather pouch into his left hand - and reached for the phone when he realized what was inside.

"I just found it," he said as he raised the Eastern Orthodox cross to the window and watched it rotate on its leather thong.

He really had no use for it, but knew instinctively that it must be important to her or she would never have sent it. And that, in and of itself, made it precious.

The feel of metal against his skin had always irritated him, so he was grateful that this was made of olive wood.

_He might even get used to it in time_, he thought as he pulled it over his neck and tucked it under his clothes.

He made a mental note to ask her where it had come from when he got back - and then thanked her for the gift.

"It will keep you safe," was all she said.

"You are the only lucky charm I need, my love."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she replied with a laugh that warmed his soul and made him wish he were back in Paris with her. "Are you almost ready to leave?"

"Yes," he said as he tore himself from the image of lying in her arms and focused on the present.

"Your contact should be in touch in approximately one hour."

They lingered on the phone for a while.

Both reluctant to be the one to hang up since there would be no further contact until he was back in Paris.

Anatoly didn't anticipate any problems – but then again it was a gamble every time he took a job like this.

It would only take one well-placed bullet to end it all.

He slipped into a rental car twenty minutes later, and was pleased to find that it had a CD player. He slipped a disc that he'd bought at Waterloo Station in and turned up the volume.

_The Heart Asks Pleasure_ first floated through the car as he eased onto the A212.

Things were looking up again, he thought as he reached out and raised the volume some more.

Life was good.

* * *

_**A car on the A406**_

_**1428**_

Williams tapped a pencil end impatiently on the table as he struggled to understand what Thompson was saying.

"Speak up, man!"

"Just about to take the exit onto 205, Sir. _Can you hear me?_"

"No. Bad reception. _Where are you?_"

"Chiswick High Road now, Sir. A205."

"What in damnation is he doing there? _Thompson?_"

The line dropped and Williams cursed again.

"Thompson!" he said when the man called back a few minutes later.

"Bardha's driver just dropped him off."

"Where?"

Thompson sounded a bit perplexed.

"Kew Gardens, Sir."

"Stay with him, Thompson."

"Looks like he's heading for Palm House. I'm on him. Kettering stayed with the driver."

"Good man. Check in again when anything changes."

* * *

_**On the A3 road**_

_**1500**_

Anatoly had just passed Weston when his phone went off.

He listened briefly to what the person at the other end was saying, but all he said before ending the call was, "I need accurate weather forecasts for tonight."

* * *

_**DHO Headquarters**_

_**Middlesex**_

_**1600**_

Williams gave Laura Evans a broad smile as she entered the room.

"How was your meeting?"

"Good. _What's going on?_" she said as she stood in the doorway and watched him. "You look like the cat who swallowed the canary."

"Bardha's on the move," Williams said as he stood from his seat and pushed a map towards her.

"Where's he going?" The excitement in her voice was unmistakeable.

"He was sitting in Kew Gardens the last time Thomspon checked in."

"Just sitting?"

"Yes."

"Is he alone?"

"His driver's with him. Left him at the gate and parked the car. Kettering's on him."

The phone rang suddenly, startling them both.

"Thompson, Sir. We're back on the road. Looks like we're headed for the 316."

Williams turned the map towards him and ran a finger down that _A_ road.

"If I'm right they'll be hitting the M3," he said.

"He's heading for the coast," Laura said as she followed his drift.

"Southampton," Williams said with conviction. "He's got a house there."

"Have we got an address?" Laura asked as she pulled pen and paper towards her.

"Yes," Williams said as he shuffled some paper around. "Here it is … Seventeen Chilworth Close."

Laura replaced the receiver and scribbled down the address before speaking again.

"I'll see what I can do about getting us a base of operations nearby. In the meantime get Gibbs and Shepard on the phone. Tell them that they will not need to relieve the others in Westminster at 1800, and have them start making their way down to Southampton pending more detailed instructions."

Williams' temper went from hot to cold in the blink of an eye.

"We don't need them, Laura."

"Extra eyes and ears are always an asset, David," she said impatiently as she stood from her seat. "You know that."

"Then take some more people from here."

"Look, I have my orders," Laura replied as she moved all of her folders into a pile and swept them into her arms. "We're working with the Americans on this and that's all there is to it. I'm sorry if Agent Gibbs rubs you the wrong way but -"

"Damn Yanks will just get in the w-"

"This is not a discussion, David," Laura said as she brought her files down forcefully onto the table.

"Everything all right in here? I could hear you two half way down the hall."

Laura blushed furiously as Colonel Masters appeared in the doorway.

"Everything's fine, Sir. I was just coming to see you. We've had a … development."

"Right then. Come to my office," Masters said.

Giving Williams a wary look before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

The Major let out an angry breath and reached for the phone.

* * *

_**Jenny and Jethro's apartments**_

_**Golders Green, London**_

"Was that Williams?" Jen asked as she walked out of the bathroom towel drying her hair.

"Yes."

"_And?_"

"Bardha's left London."

"When?"

"He didn't say?"

"Do they have any idea where he's going?"

"No."

Jenny looked at him for a long moment before turning towards the dresser.

"You don't believe him .." she said as she rooted in a drawer for some underwear.

"No, I don't," Gibbs replied as he came to stand behind her. "_These_ .." He picked up a pair of mocha-coloured panties and dangled them in front of her nose.

"Yes, Boss," Jen said with a laugh.

As she slipped into them, Gibbs dialled a number she knew to be Petrov's.

There was no answer.

* * *

_**DHO Headquartes**_

_**Feltham, Middlesex**_

_**1700**_

Laura swept back into the room and reached for the phone.

"Thompson," she said when the man answered. "Are you there yet?"

"Yes, ma'am. We just pulled up. House has a gate that runs all round it. Not much chance of seeing anythin' from where we are."

"Someone is on their way to relieve you. As soon as they get there I want you to get something to eat, then go to the new base of operations and get some rest." She hung up and addressed Williams with, "What did Gibbs have to say?"

"Nothing. What are you doing?" he asked as she reached for the phone again.

"Calling him with the base of operations address. We don't need them wandering about Southampton like idiots. We need them with us."

"I'll do it," he said as he pulled out his cell phone and dialled in his own phone number. "Line's busy."

Laura huffed and pulled her coat down from a hook on the wall.

"Look, I'll try again from the road in a few minutes okay?" he said as he helped her into it. "We really need to get going now."

Laura took one last look around the room and picked her handbag off the chair.

"You're right," she said as she switched off the light. "Lets go."

* * *

_**17, Chilworth Close**_

_**Southampton**_

Dzeladin Bardha smiled when he found the person he was expecting sitting in an armchair in his study.

Everything was moving along smoothly.

"Nice place you have here."

"Thank you," Bardha said as he offered his guest a cigar and lit one for himself.

"You were right, they _have_ been watching you."

"David Williams .." Bardha said with sneer. "Son of a whore."

His guest smiled knowingly - and took another puff of his cigar.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's notes:**

A _range card_ is a sketch of a sector for a direct fire weapon system (in this case a sniper rifle) on a given sector of fire. It helps plan shots and acquire targets during periods of limited visibility. The top part of a blank card looks like a rainbow, for want of a better description. The weapon is represented by a tiny dot in the centre, and each half circle boundary from thereon out represents a designated distance. Magnetic North is drawn in and the card oriented with the 'terrain'. After that all sorts of information is entered on the card (drawn _and_ written) - all of it relative to the firing position.

_KLA_ is the abbreviation for _Kosovo Liberation Army_ – a group which fought for the liberation of Kosovo from the _FRY_ (Federal Republic of Yugoslavia) in the 1990s. Listed as a terrorist organization until 1998, they disbanded in 1999.

In 1999 the passenger/car ferry _Duc de Normandie_ sailed between Portsmouth and Ouistreham. The latter serves as the port of entry to Caen in the Basse-Normandie part of France. It has since been replaced on that route by catamaran _Normandie Express,_ but still operates as a ferry (under the name of _Wisteria) _elsewhere.

* * *

_**Aboard a cargo ship**_

_**Portsmouth**_

_**2215**_

Nestled between containers, Anatoly listened to the sound of the last cars boarding the _Duc de Normandie_ from the departure lanes on the dock behind her. There was nothing to indicate that she would not be leaving at the appointed time of fifteen minutes to eleven - which left plenty of time for the waters to settle before the meet took place.

He looked at his range card again; more out of habit than anything else. Then he looked at the loading docks underneath his own ship and did a mental recheck of his left and right limits.

He had the best kind of overwatch position, the updated weather forecast showed favourable barometric pressure, and distances were short enough that if anyone _did_ arrive unannounced he'd be able to pick them off with his eyes closed.

There was really nothing else to do but wait – and since he was used to this kind of waiting he allowed his mind to run to something pleasant. What he would buy Svetlana with the money he was making from the job.

Some trinket to wear close to her skin, he concluded.

Something that would remind her of him all the time.

* * *

**5 Holly Hill, Southampton**

**2300**

"You still haven't heard from either Gibbs _or_ Shepard?" Laura Evans asked as she walked the living room of the DHO's current base of operations impatiently.

"Nothing so far," David Williams answered.

"What the hell are they doing? Where can they possibly be?"

"Shagged up somewhere, most like," he said with disdain.

Laura rolled her eyes at him, and then said, "and nothing from your contact either?"

Williams shook his head.

"Nothing. _Yet_."

Laura shook her head in annoyance and she walked away towards the garage.

* * *

_**Jenny and Jethro's apartment in Golders Green, London**_

Jen lay in Jethro's arms. Luxuriating in the feel of his chest against her cheek; the solid heartbeat beneath more of a comfort than she'd ever thought possible.

It suited both their temperaments not to talk after love-making. When the lust dissipated, gentle fingertips created intricate patterns as they ghosted over sensitized skin. Sometimes inducing sleep, sometimes not. But always engendering that sense of belonging that both emphasized and magnified the emotion of the post-coital nestle.

_Their_ brand of pillow talk, she supposed.

"Whatcha smilin' about?" Jethro asked as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Just thinking .."

"_About?_"

She was thinking in terms of careful phrasing, when Gibbs' phone went off.

"About time they called," she said as he rolled over and grabbed the phone off the bedside table.

"Put some clothes on," Gibbs said as he snapped the phone shut. "Petrov's on his way up."

A few moments later the Russian was spreading a map of the Balkans on the dining room table and talking fast.

"I think we finally have something," he said to Gibbs as he circled Albania with a thick black marker. "Their mafia's been on the rise since the fall of Communism. Black market's thriving and their organized crime groups are spreading everywhere."

"Drugs?" Jenny asked as she walked towards them from the kitchen holding a tray with coffee cups.

Petrov nodded and started to draw lines on the map as he said, "traditionally heroin has been transported to Western Europe from Turkey via Serbia, Croatia, and Slovenia."

"Guess the wars took care of _that_ route," Gibbs said as he angled his head to get a better look.

"Yes," Petrov said. "_And_ put the Albanian gangs in a prime position to guarantee safe routes through the war zones."

"Are they working with the KLA?" Jenny asked as she placed the tray on the table.

"Ah .. touchy subject," Petrov said with a tired smile. "There are .. rumblings."

"About?"

"A major portion of the KLA finances being derived from criminal networks."

"Proceeds from drug trafficking," Gibbs said.

"Never anything new under the sun is there?"

"What's the ring's connection here?" Jenny asked. "Weapons?"

"Most likely."

"We've seen them involved in the drug scene before," Gibbs said.

"Marseille," Jenny said.

Her mind flashed back to the blonde walking off the Lebanese trawler that August night.

They were no closer to working out who she was, but every time the woman crossed her mind, Jen felt her blood run cold.

She appeared in her dreams sometimes, too. Never for very long, and never dominating the dream. More like cameo appearances - which always left Jen unsettled.

"Weekend's almost over, Yuri. _Anything_ on where this deal is going down?" she heard Gibbs asked Petrov.

"Not yet, but my sources assure me it will be tonight."

"Any word on Bardha's involvement?"

"Nothing. He's still in Southampton."

Gibbs' and Jenny's heads snapped up in unison.

"What? Your new friends are still keeping secrets from you?" Petrov mocked with a shake of his head.

Gibbs swore under his breath and reached for his phone.

* * *

_**The garage at 5 Holly Hill, Southampton**_

_**2320**_

Laura Evans put her phone down and narrowed her eyes at Thompson, who was sitting close by looking as wound up as a drum.

"Did you know about this?" she asked in a firm voice.

Thomspon flushed bright red.

"What's going on?"

"Erm … Major Williams, he .. erm .." Thompson shot a look for help at Kettering who was standing nearby.

"The Major he .. uh .. he told us not to take any calls from Agents Gibbs and Shepard," the other man said.

"Do you know whether the Major called Agent Gibbs?"

"Uh .. no ma'am. Dunno, that is."

Laura gave them both a long hard look.

"From now on you report _directly_ to me."

"Yes ma'am," Thompson said as she swept out of the garage. When she was gone he turned to his partner. "Bloody 'ell .."

Kettering laughed and craned his neck at the door.

"Wish I were a fly on _that_ wall," he said.

_**2350**_

The words felt leaden in her mouth, but she knew she had to speak them.

"Fancy making some tea?" Laura said as she sat down on the sofa next to Williams.

"Course. Are you alright?" he asked as he drew her close and rubbed her shoulders.

"I'm okay, yes," she replied as she placed a hand on top of his own and patted it.

"I'll go see about that tea then."

"Thanks."

Laura watched him leave the room and then reached across the coffee table for his phone.

She deftly accessed his records and closed her eyes – knowing that when she opened them things between her and David might have changed forever.

"Weak or strong?" Williams called from the kitchen.

"Strong," she called back as she forced herself to look at the phone's LCD.

* * *

_**Close to Winchester on the M3**_

_**0030**_

Even with all the windows in the car rolled up, the noise was deafening.

Jenny hit her head repeatedly against the headrest in frustration and wondered, for the hundredth time, what people thought they were achieving by leaning on their horns.

Traffic had ground to a halt.

Whatever it was had to be pretty bad if it had managed to stall two lanes of cars on either side of the motorway at _this_ time of day.

She got out of the car and looked down the road, hoping to get a glimpse of Jethro. He'd set off a while ago, in an endeavour to get to the bottom of whatever was going on, and hadn't come back as quickly as she'd hoped.

He was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

_**5, Holly Hill**_

_**Southampton**_

Laura sipped her tea and held her peace as she tried to work her head around why Williams had blatantly put spokes in the wheel of this operation when he had worked so tirelessly to get them this far.

"You're sure you're alright?" he asked.

"Fine, yeah."

She forced a smile.

Not quite ready to confront him because there was enough going on without him getting defensive.

The sound of the back door opening made them both look up.

"_Ma'am_," Thomspon said urgently as he appeared in the living room doorway. "Bardha's left the house."

* * *

_**On the M3**_

Jen almost jumped out of her skin when her phone went off.

"Leave the car, start walking," Gibbs said. "Bring the maps."

"What's going on?" she asked as she did what he requested.

"Some kind of a spill. Hazmat team's already here."

"Where are you?"

"Exit half a mile down the road."

"Great," she said as she looked down at her high heeled shoes. "On my way."

* * *

_**The garage at 5, Holly Hill**_

_**Southampton**_

"Thank you for letting me know, Agent Gibbs," Laura said. "We'll see you as soon as you can get here."

Filling him in about Bardha before closing her phone and putting it down on the table.

She steeled herself and turned to Williams.

Ready now to confront him.

She found, however, that he was beside himself with anger.

"What do you mean you've lost him? _How can you have lost him when you were right behind him? _Jesus Christ, can _anything_ go right?"

"What's going on?" she addressed Thompson.

"Reeves and Murphy were two cars behind Bardha's. They've .. um .. lost him."

"Well that's just peachy isn't it?" she said as she shook her head. "Major Williams .. a word in the house please."

* * *

_**Winchester**_

"How'd you get her to give it to you?" Jen asked in amusement as she slid into their new ride. "By batting your eyelashes at her?"

"Nope. Flashed some tin and said _please_."

Jen looked at him for a long moment and in her mind there was no doubt that it had happened just that way.

That he had charmed a stranger into giving him her her car with just one word.

"So what now?"

"Called Evans. Their people are following Bardha."

"He's on the move?" she asked as she buckled up, spread the road map over her knee, and started to check out the back roads.

"Yep."

* * *

_**The dining room at 5, Holly Hill**_

_**Southampton**_

"At some level I can appreciate that you felt like Gibbs was encroaching on your turf," Laura said calmly as she looked at Williams across the table. "But you lied to me. Blatantly. And I would like to know why."

Williams shuffled from one foot to another as he lit a cigarette, but before he could answer his phone rang.

His eyes cut to Laura's as he pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and reached for a writing pad.

"_Albert Johnson Quay_," he said as he tore the paper off and brandished in the air. "Portsmouth. That's where the deal's going down. _That's_ where Bardha's going. Lets go."

Laura plucked the paper out of his hands, and when she spoke all traces of warmth had leached out of her voice.

"_You_ can stay here and hold the fort," she said as she reached for her holster and headed for the garage.

"Laura .." He grabbed her by the arm just as she reached the back door.

She turned and looked him straight in the eye.

The anguish in his voice almost made her reconsider – but ultimately there was going to be hell to pay if the brass found out about what he'd done.

"Laura, don't do this to me."

"I haven't done _anything_ to you, David. You've done it to yourself. Now get on the phone, call Reeves and Murphy, and tell them where we're headed. And when you've called _them_, call Gibbs and Shepard and tell them too. Not everything is about you, David," she said as she removed his hand gently and walked away. "Thompson, Kettering," he heard her call a few seconds later.

As he heard car doors slam and wheels spin on the gravel in the drive, Williams reached for another cigarette with shaky hands.

Wondering how the hell it had come down to this – before putting in the call to Reeves.

* * *

**Newbury/A34 heading**

"If we can get back onto the M3 I'd say we're only about fifteen or twenty minutes away," Jen said as she made her estimates from the map.

"Which exit?" Gibbs asked as a huge traffic circle loomed ahead.

"Fifth. You're looking for the M3 ramp with a Southampton/Bournemouth hea-"

She was cut off by Gibbs' phone.

"What is it?" she asked when he snapped the phone shut and tossed it into her lap.

"Change of address," he said.

"Bardha?"

"They've lost him, but Williams' source has come through. Albert Johnson Quay. Portsmouth."

"Same exit," Jen said as they came up to it. "_There_ … Southampton, Bournemouth, Portsmouth."

"Call Petrov," he said as he tossed his phone at her.

But even before she could punch in the numbers, the phone was ringing again.

"It's him," Jen said as she passed him the phone.

"Whatcha got, Yuri?"

Jen watched as her partner went from expectant to stonefaced in a split second.

"Get Evans on the phone." Gibbs tossed her the phone the moment he hung up.

"What is it?" she asked as she punched in the numbers.

"Ten minutes after Bardha left the house in Chilworth Close, another car left the estate," Gibbs said as he stepped on the gas. "With Bardha in it."

"He sent out a _decoy_ and they didn't _realise_? She isn't answering .." Jenny said in frustration.

"Keep tryi - "

The phone rang again.

"It's Williams .." Jen said.

Gibbs practically ripped the phone from her hand.

* * *

_**Albert Johnson Quay**_

_**Portsmouth**_

_**0115**_

Laura Evans' phone vibrated and she repressed a shudder.

Williams was the last person she wanted to talk to right now and she had no doubt it was him.

So she waited until the phone stopped shuddering and then put it on _silent_ mode.

"Access road's up ahead. We're here," Kettering said.

"Kill the lights."

"Ma'am, that's Murphy's car," Thompson said as Kettering cut the engine and eased into a spot near the stationary vehicle.

"Whatever happened to waiting for back up?" Laura muttered under her breath as they exited the car, weapons at the ready.

"Bolt cutters," Kettering said as he displaced a pair lying next to an iron gate with his feet.

Laura put a finger across her lips as the low murmur of voices floated towards them.

* * *

_**5, Holly Hill**_

_**Southampton**_

Williams' hand was shaking so violently that he could barely hold on to the phone.

"Listen to me," Gibbs was saying. "There's a meeting going down on that Quay, but Bardha isn't there. He's on his way back to London. He set you u-"

Williams was aware of his surroundings, but only barely.

Blood pounded in his ears as he hung up on Gibbs and called Laura's phone again.

He grabbed the keys to the remaining car and shot out of the door.

Fear fluttered in the pit of his stomach – tempering the knowledge that if anything happened to Laura his life would be over.

* * *

_**Albert Johnson Quay**_

_**Portsmouth**_

The splashes were not particularly loud, but Laura knew exactly what they meant.

"Oh dear God," she said as she leaned the side of her head against one of the containers currently offering them protection.

From aboard the cargo ship, Anatoly watched as two Albanian thugs rolled the men he'd just shot off the dock into the murky waters beneath the ship – and then resumed his vigil.

He'd seen the second car arrive.

This was not over yet.

Laura waited for a few minutes and then signalled for Thompson and Kettering to move closer.

"Bardha is in one of these storage facilities," she said slowly. "We have no choice but to press on. Stay close."

As they eased out of the shadows, Anatoly watched them.

Estimating how long he could wait before taking the first shot.

Three targets. Well within the capabilities of his semi-automatic.

When he had made up his mind, they fell like flies.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note:**

_PSM_ is short for _Pistolet Samozaryadny Malogabaritny - w_hich translates into _small self-loading pistol_.

It was a very popular weapon with KGB personnel.

* * *

_**Jenny and Jethro's apartment in Golders Green**_

_**March 9th, 1999**_

_**2130**_

Jen put away the last of the clean dishes and tried to free herself of the images that had melded with her mind.

It was virtually impossible.

Three lifeless bodies on the dock.

The subsequent discovery of two more in the water.

Jethro, working out where the shots had been fired from and coming to the conclusion that it was the handiwork of the man he was determined to run to ground.

Williams .. dead by his own hand several hours after that.

Decker and the Special Agent in Charge back in Naples as pissed as hell that they'd spent a week in the UK with nothing to show for it.

Not to mention the inquiry that they would most certainly be dragged into, and the paperwork which would dog them for the next month at least.

_Unholy mess_ didn't even begin to describe it, she thought as she closed the cupboard and made her way to the bedroom.

"It's not your fault," she said as she lay down on the bed and joined Jethro in staring at the ceiling.

But he felt it was.

Something about the way Williams had left the scene had worried his gut.

He could have, _should have_, stopped him.

Or followed him immediately.

But he hadn't – because part of him had been disgusted with the man.

He'd let him go - and when he eventually caught up with him he'd been a few minutes too late.

He struggled to find words, but Jen turned onto her side and looked straight at him.

"Sshhh," she said, placing her fingers against his lips. "I know."

She leaned across him and turned off the bedside lamp - pressing a kiss to the palm that had risen to caress her cheek before easing herself onto her back once more.

Giving him space, but not leaving him alone.

After a while he reached for her hand.

Grazing her knuckles with his thumb until she shifted back onto her side and laid her head on his chest.

As his fingers ran through her hair he felt her tighten her grip on him - and knew that whatever she was about to say was going to going to be hard to hear.

"They were lovers, Jethro," she said softly.

He hadn't known, but in retrospect it didn't surprise him.

He'd seen the look on the man's face as he'd looked at Laura's body.

It had been a partnership built on trust and mutual respect that had developed into more somewhere along the line.

Just as his and Jen's had.

Only something somewhere had gone wrong for Williams and Evans – and they'd paid the ultimate price.

She inched a little closer, and the hitch in her breathing tore at him a little more than the pain he'd heard in her voice.

He knew without asking what she was thinking.

_Another time, another place it might just as easily be them._

He refused to dwell on how he would feel if the same thing happened to him.

It never would happen to him, he told himself.

Once in a lifetime was enough for _that_ kind of pain. She was _his_ to protect and he couldn't imagine reneging on the promise he'd made to himself about that when things had become serious between them.

He dropped a kiss to her head and she shifted slightly.

Almost as though she was planning to move away.

Instinctively he wrapped a hand in her hair and pulled it downwards so that her face rose to meet his.

Tracing the contours of her face with the fingers of his other hand.

Memorizing them all over again.

Restraining himself slightly when he felt his touch border on possessiveness.

He didn't fully comprehend how cold he was feeling until she stopped his hand at her lips and kissed each fingertip slowly.

Relief of a sort sluiced through him.

Perhaps the recognition that he could let go; that he could let his guard down.

Releasing her hair, he pulled her into his side and held onto her as fiercely as she was holding onto him.

He knew he was trembling as her warmth leached into him, but it didn't matter because the moment was tender and accommodating.

Suffused in gentle caresses and rhythmic breathing that grounded them both.

* * *

_**Outside an apartment in the 9th Arrondissement**_

_**Paris**_

_**2230**_

Anatoly shut the door behind him and buttoned up his coat against the frigid night air.

Despite the fact that Svetlana knew exactly what he did, he didn't like to keep his equipment at her apartment.

He walked quickly down the street. Eager to get back to his partner, but not so lost in thought that he failed to recognize the signs that he was being followed.

He unholstered his PSM as he turned into the new shopping arcade at _Passage Du Havre_, and at the first given opportunity turned the tables on his stalker.

"I see you haven't lost your touch," the man said when Anatoly had him up against the wall in a deserted alleyway with a pistol under his chin.

"Piotr!" Anatoly lowered his gun as he recognized a friend from his KGB days.

"Have time for a drink with an old friend?"

Twenty-odd minutes later they were sitting across one another at a small bar on the Right Bank.

"Are the rumours wrong?" Piotr asked as he tapped a new pack of cigarettes on the table and pulled one out for his companion.

"What rumours are those?" Anatoly asked nonchalantly as he put it in his mouth and lit it.

"That you're out of the business."

"The only way out of the business is a bullet to the brain, Piotr. "

"I meant out of the_ freelance_ business."

"I'm still my own man."

"Really. The word is you're on someone's payroll."

Anatoly leaned back slightly and took a deep draw on his cigarette.

"What is it that you need taken care of?"

"It's not for me personally," Piotr said slowly. "Let's just say I've been instructed to make inquiries about your ... availability."

"Consider me .. available." Piotr smiled and raised his glass, and as Anatoly tossed back the remains of his single malt, he smiled too. "Tell me more."

A few hours later he slipped into Svetlana's bed.

As he lay propped up on his elbow watching her sleep, his mind drifted back to the woman on the dock.

She had been blonde too, he thought as he ran his fingers over the tresses scattered on the pillow beside him.

Although he'd taken out many people over the years, very few of them had been women.

He realized that he had never made the distinction between the sexes before - and as he looked down at his lover again, the moment was almost surreal.

He relived the prickle of regret over killing the woman in Portsmouth - and knew it was because of Svetlana.

She had humanized him in ways he hadn't thought possible after all this time.

Her love didn't make him less effective at what he did. In some oblique way it made him _more_ effective - because having a place to call home with her grounded him.

This time when he looked down at her, her eyes fluttered open.

"Anatoly!"

She was in his arms immediately, and the strong emotion rippling through her almost brought him to tears.


End file.
